


The best people have the rottenest luck

by buddy2021



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Canon-Typical Violence, How Do I Tag, Suicide, Tags May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-11 22:53:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29375238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buddy2021/pseuds/buddy2021
Summary: That PJO/Hunger games AU nobody asked for but you're getting anyway :)I'm sorry that I suck at tagging and summaries but I swear the actual fic is better.
Relationships: Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson, Katie Gardner/Travis Stoll, Luke Castellan & Annabeth Chase, Percy Jackson & Grover Underwood, Silena Beauregard/Charles Beckendorf
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	1. NOT A CHAPTER

Right, so this isn’t a chapter, it’s just the names, ages and districts of the people I’ll be putting in.  
I’ve had to change the rules of the Hunger Games ever so slightly so that the 2 tributes can both be of the same gender and the ages of the tributes are 12-21. Also, the tributes do not get to say goodbye to their loved ones, they go straight on the train, like in Catching Fire.  
These characters are ones we’ll get POVs from, hopefully. There will be OCs, but they’re just to fill in the gaps and won’t be very important.  
\- Rachel, District 1, 15  
\- Annabeth, District 2, 15  
\- Luke, District 2, 21  
\- Beckendorf, District 3, 17  
\- Tyson, District 4, 14  
\- Bianca, District 6, 13  
\- Nico, District 6, 11  
\- Travis, District 7, 17  
\- Connor, District 7, 15  
\- Silena, District 8, 16  
\- Katie, District 9, 17  
\- Clarisse, District 10, 17  
\- Percy, District 11, 15  
\- Grover, District 11, 15  
\- Ethan, District 12, 14

\- Mentors are all Ancient Greek heroes  
\- Hephaestus- Head Gamemaker  
\- Zeus- President

I'll add other characters in the notes if they're actually important


	2. Just another terrible day

PERCY POV  
Look, I didn’t want to be a tribute. I didn’t ask to be in District 11, or for my name to come out of the reaping ball. I didn’t ask for the mess I’m in, and if you’re reading this, thinking, “Cool! I want to be a tribute, just like you!”, NO. Do not think that. Being a tribute is not fun.

  
It all started on the 4th of July. Apparently, it used to be a day of celebration all that time ago when Panem was America, but for us, it’s the worst day of the year. The reaping.

  
We’re given the day off work, which is great, because as someone younger and surprisingly fitter, I have to climb all the highest trees. The weirdest thing is, even though I’m so used to it, I still feel a bit sick every time I go too high. The bad thing about getting the day off work is that the locals have nothing to do, and like to waste their time gossiping.

  
I’m kind of used to it now, the stares at my bright green eyes, the snide questions about my dad, people avoiding Mom and I for no reason whatsoever. They all think we’re weird, that Mom had me with some man clearly not from District 11, and he just… left her afterwards. Mom did remarry, this man called Gabe, who didn’t work and bribed the officials so that he could stay inside and play poker.  
I never understood why she married him. She said it was to keep me safe, but it’s doing quite the opposite.

  
I slip out of the door, silently as to avoid Gabe and his bunch of crones. Mom’s out trying to sell some of her food; people buy it too, because it’s so good. Once I’m out, I go to meet my friend Grover. He’s a bit of an outcaste too, with his dead dad and a mom who never leaves the house. At least he looks normal, even if he doesn’t act it.  
When I say that Grover doesn’t act normal, what I mean is that he’s shy, he’s always nervous. He’s not as strong as the rest of us, nor as agile. The main reason Grover’s useful is because of his reed pipes: he delivers messages with them. And these are like, every possible kind of message, ranging from, “work time over” to “a Peacekeeper is coming, stop shoving apples into your bag.”  
Yes, we have used that last one on multiple occasions.

  
Really, to me, all it shows is how desperate people here are for food, that they’re stealing apples and putting them somewhere as obvious as their bag. Like, just carrying a bag makes you look dodgy around here. What do you have in that bag? Can I have some? How do I take it from you? How are the Peacekeepers going to kill you when they’ve found out what you’ve stolen?  
Me, I only carry a knife. It’s a simple one I use to cut produce off trees, at least, that’s what Mom has told me to tell everyone. I’ve never actually needed it to cut anything; literally all fruits were ones I could pluck. I have a feeling Mom might have wanted me to keep it for something else, but I would never turn the knife on anyone. Besides, the knife’s not the right weight for me. Something feels a bit off.

  
“Percy!” Grover calls excitedly.  
“G-Man!”  
I hear Grover’s stomach rumble, and I pull out the blue cookies I’d managed to salvage from Gabe. If, or I should say when, he finds out I’ve taken them, he’ll go ballistic. The cookies aren’t even that blue anymore; Mom’s had to use less and less of the blue colouring, because it’s from the Capitol, and it’s too expensive.

  
At this point, we can’t afford luxuries like blue colouring anymore, what with Mom having to cook for so many people: Gabe, his gang, Grover, his mom, the people who buy her food, the starving people who she gives food to. On top of that, she doesn’t want me to take tesserae, she says she’d rather starve with me, than watch me die at the Capitol’s hands.

  
But this year, I have to take tesserae, if I want to survive. I’ve convinced Mom: it’s better to take my chances than let her starve, because I know she’ll be the first one to give up everything. I am 15, so my name is only in the reaping 6 times- 4, as it should be, and 2 for tesserae. I did not take tesserae on Gabe’s name. He does not deserve to be considered part of the family.

  
6 times. 6 pieces of paper have my name on them. I still do have a chance of being selected.

  
“Maaa-a-a-n,” Grover sighs when I tell him about my fear. “Quit worrying. It’ll probably be some 21-year-olds who’ll have to go instead.” 21-year-olds had their name in the reaping 10 times. I was terrified for when I would be 21, when I would have my name in so many times. Providing that I survived that long. “You’re probably right,” I agree, if only to try and convince myself.

  
I hear a scream pierce the air, followed by more cries, the voice of Candelaria Rosewood, I think, the District 11 Capitol escort, muttering, “Serves you right.” Darting towards the sounds, I see that it was indeed Candelaria. A little girl, I think she was one of them that Mom gives food to, was on the floor, wailing, as Candelaria’s heeled boot hit the girl again and again.  
Automatically, I put myself in between Candelaria and the girl, which just lead her to kick me, even harder. I wince, but don’t back down. “Why were you kicking her?”  
Candelaria scoffs, “I don’t need to answer to you.”  
“You kind of just did?” Grover inputs. I shoot him a look that says, not helpful man, and he goes back to biting a piece of foil in the corner. (He’s had this obsession since he was a child; I have no clue why.)  
“She was touching my hair. She was ruining it! It’s already destroyed, and I shall be the laughing stock of the Capitol tonight at the reaping,” She sounds so distraught about her still-immaculate hair it would have almost been funny, had there not been a girl on the floor, crying in agony.

  
Grover goes up to her, he’s quite kind and gentle with kids, he plays her a song on his pipes to get her to calm down, meanwhile I engage in an intense stare-down with Candelaria, her turquoise eyes that are clearly lenses glare back at me, I glower right back, I’m famous for my death stare, she holds it confidently at first, she believes district scum can’t do anything to her, well maybe I can’t hurt you, but at least I can hurt your eyes, and I’m right, tears begin to fill in her eyes, she tries to match me, but I know she can’t, Capitol people may have more money, more clothes, more respect, but-  
She blinks. She turns away, confused, however still with some small level of triumph in her eyes. Why is she victorious?

  
Grover had probably taken the girl away, so I go home to the house.

  
It’s not been home since Gabe moved in.

  
Talk of the devil. As soon as I attempt to creep in, and to my room, on of Gabe’s friends spot me, “Oi, Gabe, the lil gremlin’s back!”  
“Is he?” His scratchy, gruff voice scares me more than I like to admit. He turns around, baring his yellow, uneven teeth in what I can only assume is supposed to be a smile. “Come ‘ere!”  
Do I step forward, or do I stay where I am? I ask myself this question just about every time I enter the house, every time Gabe asks me. Generally, I chose step forward, because I’ve learnt from experience that staying leads to worse punishments. Today, luckily, I’m saved by Mom.

  
“Hello Gabe! Hi Percy! Did you have fun with Grover?” Mom’s smile was so forced, yet still prettier than Gabe’s ugly sneer. She fidgets with the sleeve of her shirt, almost as if she’s trying to cover up something, but eventually decides just to keep her hands behind her back. “Sally, make some of that meatloaf, will ya?” Gabe asks.  
Mom’s clearly thinking about what to say; food is becoming so scarce that things like meatloaf just aren’t feasible anymore. Everything would have to be substituted with something of lower quality, she might have even had to trade with some kids who illegally hunt.

  
“Of course, Gabe,” her voice is sickly sweet. “Let me just get Percy ready for the reaping.”  
“Oh good, dress the boy nicely before he gets shipped off to his death.”  
Mom raises an eyebrow, seeming like she was actually about to contradict him, but she puts her head down, and pulls me upstairs.

  
“Why don’t you tell him he’s being a jerk?” I whisper-shout, when we’re upstairs.  
Mom doesn’t respond, she only passes me a smart shirt and trousers, far nicer than most people could afford. How did she get this? She didn’t have much to sell…

  
I go into what I call my “room”, just a section blocked off from Gabe and Mom’s room by a fragile room divider. Changing from my dirt-stained clothes I wear every day, I wore the pristine clothes Mom had found for me. She knocked lightly on the divider, as to not knock it down. “Come in!”  
“You look perfect, Percy!” Mom smiles, holding our small hand mirror in front of me. She frowns, “Except for your hair.” She attempts to flatten it, to no avail. Mom laughs quietly, “Just like your father.”  
I seize the opportunity to find out anything about him. “What else in me is like him?”  
“Your eyes, your smile, your determination to do what’s best for those you love,” Mom looks far away, even though she’s right next to me, as if she’s cloaked in a veil of nostalgia. Suddenly, she snaps out of it, “Come on then, to the square, we shouldn’t be late for the reaping!”

  
I never understood why Mom wasn’t flustered about the reaping, like all the other parents were. Even Grover’s mom, who hardly ever got up from her chair, would walk him to the reaping, to say goodbye, just in case.  
The square is crowded, a bit too much for my liking. The stench of sweat, from the hot day and just because nobody had what they call deodorant. Candelaria strutted on to the stage, her clothes sparkling in the summer heat. She makes the typical long speech; I feel faint in the heat of the day and the crowds, I can hardly breathe, let alone concentrate.

  
“And may the odds be ever in your favour!” Candelaria announced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope yall liked the first chapter! also if you know where the chapter title comes from you are very pog :)


	3. Too bad I'm the bet that you lost in the reaping...

RACHEL POV  
I’m not what they want me to be. And I don’t care.

I live in District 1, which makes the luxury items for the Capitol. Essentially, we were less rebellious than the other districts in the war, and that meant we got a nicer job, and more money. That therefore means that our tributes are stronger, and we train what are known as Careers. Woo. Lucky us.

My family got especially fortunate; now my father is the biggest, and pretty much only, producer of jewellery for the Capitol. And who will the successor be? If you guessed me, you’re completely wrong. 

See, even as their only child, I’m not socially acceptable. First, I’m a girl, so I’d have to be really, really, exceptional to be chosen. Secondly, I’m not particularly good at either of the two most important things- fighting or business. It even extends to my appearance: my untameable head of red curls; my paint-splattered clothes; and, well, the fact that I’m generally covered in gold paint, because I protest against how Dare Industries has monopolized the jewellery economy. 

Yeah, I protest against my father’s business. And?

The want me to dress immaculately for the reaping, but I stick to my oldest overalls- which are, like most of my wardrobe, covered in paint- and a white t-shirt. Beretta Fernsby awards us with a glittering smile, uh, disgusting, and starts off the usual procedure. My father seems to have a grin on his face. Why? He never smiles. 

“The first tribute: Sparkle Soldave!” I never knew Sparkle; this does not affect me. she grins, her sharpened teeth glittering. However, the second tribute certainly does affect me.

“Now, on to the second tribute. Rachel Elizabeth Dare!”

As I walk up to the stage, dumbfounded, I realise why my father had been smiling. 

It was rigged. My father had shipped me off to the Capitol to be killed.

ANNABETH POV  
District 2. Stone cutting, supplying Peacekeepers and weapons manufacturing. We sound pretty deadly, and we are. Our district produces Careers: we are trained since we are 10 to participate in the Games. Additionally, we have the most victors. 

I’ve been told that the prime age to be in the Games is 16-19, so neither Luke or me are likely to be chosen. There are so many 16 to 19-year-old potential tributes that one of them is bound to volunteer, young and dreaming of glory. 

Starla Wolfe’s outfit isn’t half as outrageous as the other district escorts’: a simple navy blue, sparkling dress with a short fluffy jacket; her hair is long, black and dip-died in blue. I always thought she looked beautiful, and she acted fairly kindly to us too, probably because we brought her so many victors. Every year, she gives the Capitol obligatory speech, and I’ve actually memorised it. There are some interesting things hidden in it…

“Okay, so, it’s the moment you’ve all been waiting for… the tributes!” she announces with swagger. I think she should be a presenter of the Games themselves; she introduces everything with so much, so much, pizzaz. 

“First one,” she dramatically unfolds the piece of paper. “Jovian Booker.”  
“I volunteer! I volunteer!” I hear a voice in the crowd. A volunteer for the first one already. Someone much be desperate. Why?

The person walks onto the stage, but I can’t see who they are over the crowd craning their heads over to see the volunteer. “Well, what’s your name?”

“Luke. Luke Castellan.”

I begin to shake. What do I do? Do I get separated from the one person who’s always cared for me. I don’t want Luke to die. I don’t want him to be slaughtered in the Capitol’s Games. Do I volunteer? Would I rather take his place? Can you volunteer for a volunteer? I’ll wait. 

“And, the other one. Annabeth Chase!”

I’m chosen. For no reason whatsoever. It wasn’t rigged, it wasn’t through volunteering. I, by fate, have been selected to go into the arena with Luke. Walking forward with confidence, I hear someone shout, “I volunteer!” It’s a very half-hearted call, as if they pitied me. I will not be pitied.

“No. I’ve been chosen. I will go into the arena,” I try and fill as much pride into my voice as possible, try to hide the quaver, try to block the impulse to reach out for Luke’s hand as I prepare for death. They look at me in awe: a 15-year-old girl, facing her death head-on.  
I am Annabeth Chase. And I will not be afraid. 

BECKENDORF POV  
There are ten things you need to know. I’m going to keep this short. 

1\. I line up in the reaping like every year; I have more slips of paper with my name on them than ever before. I’ve had to claim tesserae every year since I was 12 for my mom and two sisters, as well as myself. You can do the maths and work out how many slips I had, considering that I’m 17.  
2\. The district escort, a woman called Diva (this is random, but I always wondered why all the district escorts were women) comes onto the stage.  
3\. She gives the Capitol speech, about the war and why we have the Games. It’s as boring as every year.  
4\. She pulls the first piece of paper out, and takes a long time to unfold it, because her long nails keep getting in the way.   
5\. “Charles Beckendorf.” I walk on to the stage slowly, trying not to register my surprise and worry. I don’t know how my sisters will survive without me. They should learn from this never to take tesserae.   
6\. “Harley Simons.” There are two boys this year, but we could not be more different. Harley is skinny, weak, pale and short; on the other hand I am none of those things.  
7\. Harley cries as he takes his place on the stage. I do not move my gaze from the crowd, or I will start crying too.  
8\. Diva is naturally disappointed about the lack of drama this year. There are no volunteers, no sadness from any of the tributes’ families or friends.   
9\. I do not listen as Diva wraps everything up. Our mentor, Daedalus, is too busy fiddling with a piece of wire to care. I wish I had something to fidget with.  
10\. We are taken away to the train. Goodbye District 3.

TYSON POV  
I am 14, this is my 2nd reaping. It should be my third, but when I was 12, people didn’t know I lived in District 4. As an orphan, I wasn’t registered for the Games, until they found me in an alleyway one day.

I love District 4. Why do so many people hate life here? We get to tie ropes, and throw sharp things, and find fish in the sea! Okay, I don’t like that last one. It’s fun finding the fishies, but not so fun to watch them die. When they’re out of the water, they flip-flop around, and we try not to look at the blood, then they go still. That’s when you know the fishie is dead. That’s sad. 

Everybody else is dressed nicely, but I don’t have pretty clothes, apart from mommy’s beautiful dress, but when wear it everyone looks at me funny. I don’t understand why I can’t wear a dress if I want to. They say that I’m acting like girl, but it’s obvious I’m not…

I’ve actually kept a patch of mommy’s dress in my pocket. I hold on to it, and it keeps me comforted. In the square, it’s boiling, and it’s very cramped, but I can still see what’s going on because I’m very tall. People say I’m, “freakish”, but I don’t know what that means. 

Maybell Sallow is our district escort; she’s very sparkly. She’s talking to the mayor, he points at me for some reason, and I smile back at him. Maybell gives us a very long speech that I don’t understand, and then she reads the tributes. “Sophie Brereton, and Tyson.” 

I’m chosen. I don’t know how, I only had my name in 4 times. As I join Sophie Brereton on the stage, tears begin to swim in my eyes. I can’t help but let the tears flow. I will have to leave District 4, and I’ll have to make it for myself in the Hunger Games. 

NICO POV  
Today’s Bianca’s first time in the reaping, and I’m very excited! See, she’s not 12 years old, she’s 13, but we were from District 13 before Mom left it. Then, some cool people in white suits took us to District 6, and that’s where we live now. 

Because he’s in the reaping, she got extra oil and grain for our food, and she even managed to trade enough for new clothes. Bia said that even though I’m not in the reaping this year, I still a fancy outfit.

She’s been worried over the past few days for some reason. I heard one of her friends talking to her; Bianca seemed to be crying. I went int the room to ask her if she was okay, but she told me to leave. As I left, her friend told her, “You only have your name in 7 times, people have way more than that!”

7 times? It confused me. I though 13-year-olds only had their names in twice, 4 if she took tesserae for both of us. I wonder how her name could have been in it so many times. 

I’m with the other spectators, they’re mostly worried family, more parents, and some younger siblings. I don’t think District 6 is very important- they’re only transportation- and it’s shown by our Capitol representative Zendaya Scarlet, who isn’t very excited at all. 

“Right, kids, first tribute,” she drawls. “Phoebe Elysius.” That’s Bianca’s friend, I think. 

Phoebe stumbles onto the stage, coughing and pale, almost as if she’s poisoned. Someone volunteers, another girl, probably out of pity. I try and jump to see who it is, but I’m too small. The girl who volunteered climbs up onto the stage. 

It’s Bianca.

It’s Bianca. 

It’s Bianca, Bianca’s going to the Games, she’s going to the Games, she’s going to the Capitol, she’s going to have fancy clothes and food, Bianca’s going to be special, but then what, then she’ll go out into the arena, only one person out of 24 will survive, will it be her? It has to be her, but what if she doesn’t survive, those District 1 and 2 kids will be way stronger than her, what if she dies, will I watch her be killed, will I be abandoned? I can’t breathe now, I can’t stand properly, there’s no room for me to sit, do I run or do I let it be? I run, even though I’m struggling, I run back to the house, back to the house that will never be home again because Bianca’s gone. 

And she won’t come back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not me putting hamilton and throne of glass references in, no not me at all


	4. ...Now what will you do when I go to my grave?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the reapings part 2

CONNOR POV  
District 7, lumber. We’re very important, and get surveyed by Peacekeepers at all times when we’re chopping wood (oh, how fun, we spend all day cutting trees in the morning and going to school in the afternoon). This means that we stay out of trouble and keep the moderate degree of freedom we have. However, my brother and I still like to spice things up a bit. 

Every so often, not enough to get ourselves punished, but enough to keep the fun going, we might play a practical joke on one of the Peacekeepers, or steal one of their items. Today, we’re going for our best one yet. We’re planning to steal one of those soft Peacekeeper’s guns, at the reaping.

So, you’re asking how we might steal a gun? Tip one, always hit where the mark isn’t looking. These Peacekeepers tend to carry a variety of weapons, so we’ll pretend that we’re going for one of their rifles, when actually we’ll just snatch a smaller shotgun. 

Whilst Diamond Aspen prattles on about the Capitol, the history of the Games, how indebted we are to them etc., I look pointedly at the Peacekeeper’s rifle. He keeps an eye on me, and moves a protective hand onto it. Meanwhile, Travis pulls out the shotgun from the weapon belt, he waves it with a triumphant grin, but he may have gone a little bit too far. Diamond spotted Travis waving the gun, and said sharply, “You! What’s your name?”

“Travis,” my older brother was shaking. He never shook. “Travis Stoll.”  
“Well, you’re the first tribute for District 7.” Oh goodness. It was my fault, my fault that my brother is in the Games, it’s my fault that he’s going to get killed. 

“Second tribute: Pia Mullaney!”

Then, I made the worst decision of my life. I volunteered. When Travis asks me why I volunteered, I only told him, “You can’t die without your right-hand man.”

SILENA POV  
I look fabulous today, for my 4th reaping. Each year, I’ve had a new outfit, and I hang them up in my room. It’s almost like a celebration of victory, that I haven’t being pulled out of the reaping ball, that I’m safe. This year, I’m wearing a pair of denim trousers, jeans, I believe they call then in the Capitol, and a top with a print that’s called, “leopard print,” and even though I don’t know what a leopard is, it would probably be a very pretty animal.

In District 8, textiles, fashion is on one of two ends. It’s either amazing, with a fabulous use of fabrics, or a patchwork made up of odds and ends. It depends on how lucky you are. Me, I’m quite fortunate. I work for a kind woman, Hestia, who lets me design clothes and take some home. She even lets me balance it with schoolwork, and won’t hesitate to give me paid days off. It’s because my dad’s been heartbroken ever since Mom left him, and he just makes terrible sweets these days, even though nobody has any want or need for them. 

The Capitol folk dress fancily too, but not in the tasteful way that most of us do. Zarina Sahay is overdressed as always, with her black hair curled and piled on top of her head, and her dress was red, sparkling and full length, with a giant bow on it.

“First tribute: Silena Beauregard!” It’s me. Oh god, it’s me. I’m going to di- 

Someone volunteers for me! Oh, thank goodness. I can’t hear their name, which is unfortunate, because I would try and donate a little bit of the money we had to them in the arena. I won’t be able to do that, though, as she calls out the second tribute. 

“Second tribute: Silena Beauregard?” It’s the first time the same name has been pulled out twice, and nobody’s really sure what to do. There are no volunteers, only a cold rush of air, pushing me towards the stage. There’s one shout in the background; when I reach Zarina I see it’s my father. The calm words of Hestia compose him enough to keep him from being too much of a public embarrassment, but I still feel my cheeks burn as half the crowd turns to see what was going on. 

I’m already an embarrassment, and I really think it’s only going to go downhill from here.

KATIE POV  
I’ve never been someone to try and grab the spotlight. It only comes naturally to me, considering that I’m from District 9, there to produce grain. Even though we’re not considered to be that important, or that “out there,” and we certainly don’t have anything to be proud of, we still define our whole personalities around our districts. I can totally imagine meeting someone from another district- which would be so amazing, I’m socially starved here- and introducing myself by saying, “Hi, my name’s Katie Gardner, I’m from District 9,” and that would be the main thing I say about myself. 

That’s why the District 9 kids never win the Hunger Games. Sure, some of us are quite strong, and we know how to hide (District 9 is a more dangerous place than you think), but we don’t have the appeal of the other kids. We’re not starved but feisty underdogs; but we’re not charming and muscular frontrunners either. Having a personality isn’t really something important here. 

Our district escort, Demezla Trixie, has more than enough personality for all of us. In contrast to the pale, bored faces of our district, she is always smiling, and the brilliant white glitter on her face stands out so much so that I get blinded every time I see it.

“All right everybody! Let’s begin!” she announces, “How exciting…” Demelza pulls out the first piece of paper, “Lara Grice!”

Someone calls out as a volunteer, they’re behind me. It’s so strange to see a volunteer in District 9, nobody normally wants to go to the Games. When the volunteer doesn’t step forward, Demelza shouts, “Who’s the volunteer?” 

The girl next to me points an accusatory finger at me, “I’m pretty sure it was her,” she calls. What? No, why would I volunteer? Why would anyone volunteer for these stupid games? “It wasn’t me, I swear,” I splutter, but the Peacekeepers are having none of it. The drag me to the stage, threatening me with a gun. Maybe a gunshot might be faster than a death in the Games, and much less painful, but I trudge to Demelza anyway, completely zoned out. She congratulates me, but I don’t reply I stare at the floor, watching the flecks of dust float around in the light breeze. I don’t listen to who the other tribute is, nor do I care.

I, Katie Gardner, the nameless, faceless girl of District 9, am going out as a nobody.

CLARISSE POV  
Right, I was picked in the reaping. Do I need to go into huge pretty details about what I was wearing and who was doing what and how I felt? It’s not necessary to you. The simple things you need to know are as follows.

The first girl, Paige Pickering, is picked by Gigi Genevieve, and her family is wailing as she goes onto stage. I don’t know her, and she is much younger than me anyway. I might take care of her, I think, but I brush that aside. 

Uh, I’m going into far too much detail. Confiding in you guys isn’t something I should do. But, hey, I think I might talk more… we’ll see.

“Clarisse la Rue?” Gigi calls, “Clarisse la Rue? Where are you?” It had been, like, 2 seconds since she had called my name the first time: she’s so impatient. Our mentor, Achilles, clearly thinks the same, he’s been glaring at her, completely annoyed, for the whole time. When I approach the stage, he seems to lose some of that glare, almost as if he’s thinking, hey, finally something we can work with. At least, I hope that’s what he was thinking. 

The crowd seem to be surprised at me; in comparison to Paige, I am strong, tall and burly, what you expect of a Career, not a girl from District 10. Slaughtering cattle is not an easy task, but the officials realised that although I was young, I was muscular, and that the job of killing should go to me.

Murdering people will hopefully be just as easy.

GROVER POV  
The reaping’s always been one of my biggest fears- worse than underground, and even rabbits. Okay, okay, maybe not rabbits. Because Percy’s mom gives Mom and me food, I’ve only ever had to take tesserae once, and that was when I was 12. This year, I have my name in the reaping 6 times, just like Percy. I don’t know why he was so worried earlier today, like, even some 12-year-olds have their name in the reaping 6 times. It’s not a big deal. 

The one things that is a big deal is the trouble he caused in the morning with Candelaria. To the Capitol, even a death stare is probably something punishable. When Percy does his whole “getting into trouble because it’s morally right” thing, he really terrifies me. Like, not just because of the whole death glare thing (even though I would never want that stare turned on me), but just because when he tries to set things right, it’s just with such determination you think he can actually make a dent in the Capitol’s armour. 

But no matter how hard Percy tries, he’ll never succeed. 

“Time for the first tribute,” Candelaria trills, her grin malicious, “Perseus Jackson.” I don’t even have time to register my surprise as Percy joins her on stage when she announces the second tribute, “Grover Underwood,” almost as if she were in a hurry. As I trip over my feet trying to get to the stage, I realise that she didn’t leave any time for volunteers.

I personally doubt those pieces of paper said Percy and Grover at all. 

Our mentor, Patroclus, looks at Candelaria pointedly, opening his mouth, before closing it again. Useless Patroclus. Idiotic goldfish. Woah, woah, woah, I’m not used to insulting people to this level. 

I mean, Percy’s way worse in that area, he swears to no end, even though most of the time it’s in a different language. I don’t even know which language it is, just something he just has an affinity for. 

I put my hand in my pocket, feeling the piece of tin stashed in there. I really felt like pulling it out and gnawing on it, but that would have to wait for the train. In front of the whole district, the biggest district in the whole of Panem, I could not cry, could not reach for a strange coping mechanism. A tribute could not appear weak.

But what if I am weak?

ETHAN POV  
My name is Ethan Nakamura. I am 14 years old, and I am from District 12. My father is alright, he doesn’t really do particularly much for me. He puts food on the table, and that’s pretty much it. My mother has been non-existent in my life, she only met me once, when she took me to the forest and cut one of my eyes out. Gruesome, right?

She said it was for balance, for vengeance, that we will not go unnoticed. It’s a profound statement, one that we can really identify with in District 12, as the smallest and poorest district. 

Me? I think she’s absolutely mad.

Sure, her idea is deep, and it makes a lot of sense. I understand where she’s coming from, I understand how she wants a better world, but I think it’ll never change, so what’s the point of standing up against the brutality and the tyranny of our rulers?

So when I’m pulled out of the reaping ball, when one of the 9 slips with my name on them are selected by Celestia Storm, I don’t question anything. I don’t let the tears flow out of my eyes as I take my place along the podium. I do not falter as I am led to the train. I do not let my emotions surface when I am finally alone again. A pawn, that’s all I am, even if they doll me up to be more. I will not take their bait, I will not revel in the luxury of the Capitol whilst I can. I will be an empty shell. That is all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i had this idea where yall could actually bet on the tributes and give them "gifts" but that would rely on actual interaction so i guess we'll have to see ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> (just in case you didnt realise this is me begging for some iNtErActIoN)


	5. There's a reason London puts barriers on the tubeline

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for su!c!de, I’ll put another note in the section where it is. Also I know that before I said that the OCs are not important, yeah that isn’t quite true. I promise when they get into the arena you’ll see less of these OCs.

CLARISSE POV  
On the train to the Capitol, I have nothing to do. I am bored mindless, and it has only been one day. I consider approaching the younger girl, Paige, but I refrain from it, and instead consider my tactics in the Games. Do I run away from the other tributes as soon as the Games begin, or do I risk dashing into a massacre trying to attain weapons from the Cornucopia? Do I go solo, or do I join up with another tribute, preferably one as strong as me, to take down the weaklings?

My thoughts are interrupted by a knock on the door. I walk across the untouched compartment grouchily, expecting it to be Gigi, an Avox or maybe even Achilles, but at the door I find a disgruntled Paige, holding a teddy bear with disgust equivalent to if she were carrying a bag of cow intestines. Even I’ve never done that. Mind you, I don’t see a reason to need to carry them anyway.

“Look at this,” the girl swings the teddy bear towards me.  
I am confused, “What’s this got to do with anything?”  
“That Gigi Genevieve. At breakfast she insulted me and District 10 to no end, then gave me this manky thing as if it were going to make anything better.”   
“It sure is disgusting,” I offer. Suddenly, I realise how hungry I am, and realise that I missed a vital meal- the more calories I gain now, the longer I’ll be able to last in the Games before I die of starvation. “Wait, why didn’t an Avox come and take me to the meal? I thought they were supposed to do that.”  
Paige shrugs, “Yeah, but Gigi told them not to. Said she’d received orders that you should die of starvation.”

Gigi received orders for me to starve? I thought the Hunger Games were never planned like this. In fact, I would be an entertaining tribute, one who would provide lots of kills. That’s when I realise. Of course the Gamemakers want me to die of starvation, after slaughtering some tributes; it shows that even the strongest of us can’t survive, that we all have weaknesses. 

“I’m so done with that woman,” the girl sighs. I laugh, we all are, but my chuckle fades away as a malicious glint starts to sparkle in her eyes.

“What if we kill her?”

TRAVIS POV

Connor’s been quite different over the train ride, he’s been more quiet, reserved, and dare I say it, well behaved. Poor kid, he’s probably terrified of the idea that he’s going to die, out of his own choice. His volunteering was probably on impulse, but now it’s sinking in.

I had decided earlier that I would face my death head-on, go out with a bang, if you like. Besides which, Connor needs cheering up now more than ever, so I set up my plan for lunchtime.

The Avox beckons for me to come to the dining area, and I’m blown away but the amount of food they have set out for us; although Mom’s cooking is good, this is of another level altogether. 

Diamond’s not here yet, but Connor does walk into the room, sullen and silent. I think about ten minutes pass before our district escort deigns to walk into the room, and believe me, I’ve used those 10 minutes wisely.

“Hello, children, it’s lovely to see you again,” Diamond’s voice is so sweet you could make caramel out of it. Caramel’s supposed to be a rare luxury in 7, but Mom carefully rations the amount of sugar we can get until she can make some. I feel sick thinking of home, how we’re never going to go back there. 

I force a smile, and try to act polite, “Good afternoon, Diamond,” I choke out.   
“Miss Aspen to you,” is all she says. She points a long finger at Connor, the tip of which is painted in a blinding shade of neon yellow, “Why isn’t he saying anything?”  
I growl. “Let my brother be.”  
“I’m sure he can speak for himself. He seemed to be loud enough to blast out his shout to volunteer at the-” Diamond is cut off by a small bang, almost perfect timing with the word blast. The little firecracker exploded again by Diamond’s seat, leaving a small scorch mark on the otherwise perfectly white floor of the dining area. I take a bit of some bread- wow, even this tastes so much better here- pretending that nothing’s happening, as another few explode in a ring around Diamond. Some of them manage to set a spark onto her floor length, frilly dress. It does no damage to Diamond herself, but she still screams all the same. 

By this point, I am practically bursting with laughter, and I expect Connor to follow suit, but he doesn’t. He just sits there, silently, not doing anything. 

What’s wrong with my brother?

CLARISSE POV

Kill her? Sure, Gigi’s annoying, but killing her is a bit much, actually, it’s way too much. “I mean, you would do the actual killing,” Paige elaborates, “But I’ll take the blame.” 

Oh, oh. She wants to die before the Games? The right things to do at this point is to tell her not to, to tell her that’s a bad idea, but is it really? The kid didn’t have much of a chance of winning anyway, and if we get rid of Gigi, with just Achilles representing us, District 10 might be more worth sponsoring. 

“I’m in. How about tonight?”  
Paige raises an eyebrow, “Tonight? That’s stupid, anyone could expect an attack at night. I’m thinking more at lunch today. I know that there’ll just be Avoxes and, well, Achilles probably won’t attend lunch anyway. There’s also a nice selection of knives.”

I grin, “I like the way you think.” For a moment, I feel sad, that this girl won’t make it to the Games. If I had to choose an ally, it would be her. I brush the thought aside, just like every kind thought I’ve had about looking after anyone. 

1 o’clock. Lunchtime, according to Paige. She’s done all the planning, but now it’s up to me. As I enter the dining cart, surveying the knives available, I find that Paige’s accounts, which she had detailed later, were completely accurate. This girl… was she right in the head? Was she dragging me on to do something absolutely mad? 

No. I could not afford for my confidence to waver. Gigi struts into the room, eyeing us with distaste. “Clarisse, what are you doing? You-”

“Let the 74th Hunger Games begin,” I mutter, throwing the knife. 

CONNOR POV

TW: su!c!de in this part

I have not said a word since we left District 7, not to Diamond, not to Travis, and certainly not to that idiot of a mentor Bellerophon, who didn’t seem to care much about us anyway, I’ve stayed in my room almost the entire time, with the exception of lunch when Travis played that stupid prank on Diamond, contemplating my decision to volunteer. I would die, all as part of the Capitol’s games, and so would Travis, because, let’s face it, he doesn’t have much of a chance to win either. 

And it was all because of my stupid idea.

So why did I think stealing a gun would be fun? It’s always a good idea to have self-defence in District 7, and imagine how great we’d look with an actual gun- even the Peacekeepers would be scared of us… a least that’s what I thought. Really, we would have been killed on sight for even pulling it out, but was being shot worse than going into the Games? 

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, I will not be a winner. So what exactly do the Gamemakers have in store for me? Probably not much, unless I have a compelling storyline, which I absolutely do not. I guess I’d be a little kid to pick off before the real fun starts; maybe I’d die in the bloodbath on the first day.

So is it really worth it to make it all the way to the Capitol, to be paraded around, to be dolled up by Aphrodite’s stylists, to have an interview with Poseidon, just to be murdered afterwards? And there’s no saying how the Careers would treat me. Maybe they’d be considerate, and just kill me quickly, or if it were to be a slow day, they might take their sweet time. 

I cannot imagine Mom being forced to watch that, to see the death of not one, but both of her sons, to watch us being tortured and killed, possible by other people our age. I look at my right arm, at the scars, 13 of them, in a tally. All scars from when I did something wrong, something that got us in trouble. 13. A pretty unlucky number. 

It’s true, I am pretty unlucky, my luck’s only going to get worse from here, so I think again, is it really worth it?

The train suddenly screeches to a halt; are we really already at the Capitol? An Avox gestures for me to come out of my room, and he guides me to the doors of the train. They are on both sides, and both of them open. One door leads me to the platform, where Travis is demanding to have the situation explained; the other leads me to nowhere, just the rail below. 

There’s a reason the Capitol put barriers on the trains where the tributes arrive, but they’ve clearly forgotten to here. The Avox turns, holding a hefty box Diamond had given her. 

That was enough time for me.


	6. ... There's a reason they fail

KATIE POV

It is lunchtime, and I stuff myself with food, not caring about looking desperate. I am desperate, I guess, because the food tastes so good, nothing like what we can make in District 9. Also, I need to fatten up before the Games, it’ll mean I can survive for longer, considering that I don’t really know what’ll be safe to eat in the arena. It’s those kind of small slip ups that cost potential winners to lose their lives, not, of course, that I consider myself a potential winner at all. 

Maybe I could make it quite far into the Games, if I run away as soon as I can move, maybe grabbing a supply pack, but definitely nothing more. I won’t even really know how to use the weapons if I had any, so it’s pointless trying to get any of those. With the dangers of eating something poisonous hanging over me at all times, I hope there’ll be a station in training teaching me what’s safe; I’ll be going there straight away. 

An Avox approaches Demelza, with a message in his hand. Demelza reads it quietly, “District 7 train not working properly, tributes will be taken onto District 9 train.”  
“Oh!” I said excitedly. Finally a chance to meet someone from another district. I make a mental note watch the replays of the reapings, just to see who they are.   
Demelza looks uncomfortable, “Well, the more the merrier, I guess,” she sighs.  
This causes me to raise my eyebrows. Merrier? When talking about the Games? I swear, only Capitol citizens can think like that. Even if it is exciting that I’ll be meeting someone new, (other than Pia, who has not talked at all on the journey), I would never go as far as to call it merry.

When lunch is over, I ask an Avox if they could show me the reapings, which they play for me efficiently. I feel a pang of guilt for ordering the Avox around, I’ sure they’d in fact much prefer to be in my position, but I brush it aside to watch my competitors. District 1 and 2’s contestants look strong and fearless as always, apart from one girl, I can’t remember her name, but she had red curls flying everywhere, and she looked very shocked to be chosen. District 3’s tributes could not be more different, and there’s a boy from District 4 who’s trying to gain sympathy from the audience. Or maybe he’s not right in the head, I’m not really sure. 

District 6’s tribute, a volunteer, surprises me because she’s so young. Ah, here’s District 7. The first tribute wasn’t chosen through the normal methods: he was trying to steal a Peacekeeper’s gun, and had almost got away with it, until he got a bit too big for his boots. I laugh, but sober up immediately as he is chosen as tribute. The second tribute is a volunteer, who looks exactly the same as the first boy, “Travis.” Were they twins? I would have a lot of fun trying to tell them apart on the journey. 

As our train stops, I hurry to the doors where we entered the train, hoping that Travis and Connor would come through the same ones. Only one boy came through, which one I did not know, and he appeared confused, constantly looking behind him. “Are you looking for your twin?” I ask, “He’s probably just coming. Do you want to come in until then?”  
He looks at me suspiciously for a second, but it cleared in a second and was replaced by an elvish grin, “Yeah, sure. I’m Travis Stoll.”  
Ah, so he’s the one who stole the gun in the first place. “I’m Katie Gardner.”  
“Gardner? From District 9? That’s almost ironic.”  
I snort, “Says the Stoll who like to steal things.”  
“Touché. Connor’s even worse than I am- in fact, he’s the one who suggested to steal the gun. It was going to be our best yet.”  
“Well, that didn’t end up going well. I mean, look where you are now.”  
“If we hadn’t done that, I would never have met you.” 

It’s just stupid flirting, I tell myself, but I feel my cheeks going red anyway. “Where is Connor? Shouldn’t he have come on the train by now?”  
Travis is silent. I think he’s not going to respond, but he says, “He’s been pretty withdrawn ever since we left 7. Probably in his room.”

We hear shouting from another room. “You stupid, worthless idiot!” a shrill voice shouts. “District scum are so bloody useless, they can’t even serve the Capitol right! We give you a second chance, but no, you screw that up too!”  
Travis whistles, “That Avox must have done something terrible for Diamond to break out the-” he put finger quotes around the next words, “curse words.”  
I hear the louder, but still calmer voice of Demelza ring out across the room, “What has that Avox done for you to leave it like that? It won’t even perform simple tasks properly anymore, look what you’ve done to it.”  
“It was terrible at its job at guarding a tribute.”  
“That’s it? The tributes are all fine.”  
“Except from the volunteer from 7.”  
Demelza sighs, “Where is he now?”

“Dead. Jumped out of the train.”

Travis loses all hints of mischievousness, turning white and shaking. “Sit down,” I instruct. Oh gods, his brother is dead, what do I do? “Connor’s gone,” Travis whispers, “He’s only 15, how-”

ANNABETH POV

Starla Wolfe gets us straight to work on our strategies for the Games; it’s evident she wants another winner from us, and she doesn’t care whether it’s me or Luke. 

“So, kids,” she looks at Luke, and amends, “So, tributes, we’re going to have to consider our approach for the Games. You’re from District 2, so we can take a variety of approaches. The most important thing is that you’re confident, because you should be. District 2 tributes generally partner up with District 1 and 4, to make the-”  
“Career pack. Yes, we know.” Luke interrupts. I frown at him; I enjoy hearing Starla’s melodic, gentle voice. She beckons us to a seating area, and we follow, Luke a little hesitantly . “Sit down. Now, we’re going to rewatch the reapings, and I want you to pay special attention to the tributes that could be allies in the Career pack. I assume you two will be in charge of it, or maybe the tributes from 1. I haven’t seen the reapings either, and I presume you’re as excited as I am.”

It’s strange, she sounds genuinely excited, in a way that none of the district citizens ever are, and never will be. It’s almost as if Starla wants us to respond, but when there’s an awkward silence, she takes a deep breath and continues. “So, here’s District 1.”

The first tribute is a girl called Sparkle, she’s a typical terrifying tribute from 1, and she even has sharpened teeth. I gulp. She’s not somebody I’d like to cross. The second tribute looks surprised, but then sobers up, almost as if she had a realisation. I don’t trust her. 

I turn away at District 2, not wanting to be embarrassed at what I had previously considered bravery. The commentator stops speaking when I brush away the volunteer, he continues after a moment of silence, “Annabeth Chase, the second tribute of 2, sure looks to be a contender. The boldest one yet.”

Starla squeals, “Ooooh! What a lovely title! The boldest one! Thank you, Annabeth dear, I have something fabulous to work with.” I almost smile along with Starla, but Luke gives me a subtle shake of his head. Why is he so against these people?

Sophie Brereton, the first tribute of 4, looks interesting, someone I could work with, not too bratty, but not too weak. Tyson, the boy without a surname, is someone I certainly don’t want to work with. 

He looks like… like… 

The other districts roll by, until District 11, where the district escort has evidently resorted to foul play to choose the tributes. Percy Jackson, and Grover Underwood. I remember the silly fortune teller who had told my future for free quite a few years ago. Luke had scoffed at it, but I had listened intently, to be fair, I was only 10. That fortune teller had told me to look for a boy with “eyes of the sea,” and there they were, in the one named Percy. 

“He’s the one, he must be.”

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you guys like this idea, updates will be at least once a week! help this is my first fic i really hardly know what im doing.


End file.
